Leggo My Neko
by Solaire19
Summary: Just a preview into the future for now :


A/N: So, this is a potential story for later. Haunted Palace is almost finished and I'm finishing up the next chapter today. After that is Bullets and Blades again, and then Lost Colors.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was the scum of the earth. He was the dog shit that got stuck on the bottom of your shoe and you unknowingly tracked it around all day wondering what the hell that smell was. He was the insect that crawls into your drink, you end up swallowing it, and then you spit it back up after you choke enough to make your eyes water. He was the used tampon left out in the open in the girls' bathroom of your high school. His blue hair was wild and his darker blue eyes were furious. He got no respect, but fear? Oh, yes he got fear. Pure, unrestrained, irrational fear everywhere he went. It puffed out of common assholes like a defense mechanism. And fuck, it felt tremendous when he grabbed the random businessman passing by his usual hangout at the side of Stark's custom gun shop.

The man in the black suit was pretty built in the muscle department, but he was one of those who went to the gym and beefed up for looks. This sniveling, shivering asshole didn't know how to use any of it properly and any urge to do so went out of his head when his black eyes met blue and recognized who exactly was crushing his windpipe with callused hands. Grimmjow smirked and decided to end this quick because Stark didn't like him to kill people outside of his shop. One hit with his free hand and the filthy rich bastard was out of his mind. Literally. Grimmjow dropped the slack body and went through the assholes pockets, the smooth and silky material cool beneath his hands.

The guy had a slim, leather wallet with no cash in it at all. Of course. Rich bastards like him only carried credit. And apparently a little slip of paper with all of their information for said credit. Grimmjow shook his head and chuckled under his breath, slipping the wallet into his back jeans pocket and pulling the unconscious body further into the alley. He made sure to drag the guy close to either side of the alley so his face would drag across the brick and mark up his face a bit. Glancing at the darkening sky, Grimmjow left the alley and made his way to the entrance of Stark's shop. A bell tinkled as he pushed the door open. Stark's shop was neat and clean. Only a few actual guns were for sell because being a custom shop most people brought in guns they already had so Stark could fix them up. Even though the gun selection was small and not anything really to look at, the carefully placed display cases with finished custom guns of all kinds and years drew in the money.

The beige walls were covered with digital photos of work Stark had already done for past customers and some designs he drew. Stark's personal work was kept upstairs where he lived above his shop. Not seeing his sometimes friend, Grimmjow walked around the sales desk on the right and into the back room. A slim man with brown skin and shoulder length black hair was laying over the surface of the desk he was sitting at and snoring loudly with his head facing away from the door. Grimmjow swung his open hand towards said head, but it was caught around the wrist before it could make contact. The blue haired guy was no stranger to the black haired man's reflexes. He just grinned and kicked him in the shin. Stark hissed and let go of his wrist so he could rub his fingers over his new point of pain. Hazy grey eyes stared at him.

"What do you want this time?" Stark mumbled. Grimmjow sat on the desk and sighed.

"I need to use your laptop, Doggie." Stark had a thing for wolves and Grimmjow had a thing for pissing off people. The problem was that Stark also had a thing for never getting angry or riled up. This was strangely and secretly refreshing for Grimmjow which was one of the reasons he kept coming back to the damn shop all the time for nonsensical shit. Stark stared at him some more, Grimmjow could see disappointment and it pissed him off a little, even made him feel the tiniest bit guilty for a few seconds.

"For what?" Stark asked. "I'm not letting you use for any illegal shit. You should go to school for all that genius tinkering you do over at Nnoitra's garage. I told you that I would pay for it."

Grimmjow sneered at him in anger.

"Poor Stark. You want to help the no good bastard you see all the time who's secretly screaming for help, but he just won't listen."

"Grimmjow—"

"I don't need your fucking school!" He slammed his hand down hard enough to rattle the surface of the desk. "And I don't need your fucking pity, Stark! I asked for your laptop, not all of this extra shit. Go save someone else's fucked up life. I'm sure the kids with the distended bellies would appreciate it in Africa."

Stark opened his mouth to say something and Grimmjow hissed like a snake. Stark just shook his head and held up one finger to indicate the upstairs part of the shop. Grimmjow gave him one last death contemplating glare and left.

Stark P.O.V.

Stark sighed and rested his chin on his hand. To save Grimmjow was his quest in life. It seemed like the kid had always been homeless, like the city had fucked the misery of the world and Grimmjow had risen up from the sidewalk. His looks and size stood out, but Stark had never seen him with anyone else unless he was beating the shit out of them with a delighted and sadistic grin on his face. He knew the kid had gone to high school because he'd met him while he was in the later years of it. His school uniform had been ratty and torn. The shirt no longer anywhere near white, black smudges and blood stains all over it. His slacks had been ripped at the knees and rumpled and Stark had to wonder if he had done it on purpose. Stark had gone to the kid's school and ordered him a new one. So that one day when the kid had come slamming into his shop, he'd gotten an armful of new clothes and a rare stern look from grey eyes.

Grimmjow didn't give much, in anything. And he had to guess that Grimmjow didn't give much because he didn't take much either. Stark didn't press him too much. The kid was twenty three to Stark's thirty so he could handle himself just fine.

*Grimmjow is from Japan and now lives in America on the streets. He's lived in America that way for three years. When he was eighteen, he met Neko Ichigo and fell in love. Ichigo was on the street, not being the kind of breed that was sought after and having to find his own way. Grimmjow happened by on the orange head being beaten up. The men planned to rape and kill him but Grimmjow saved him. When he was nineteen, his father destroyed his life and had Ichigo kidnapped and taken away so he would no longer be a distraction for Grimmjow and the blue haired boy could no longer shame the Jaegerjaques family name. When Grimmjow found out, he murdered his father, the servants, and the guards. He went on a rampage. Once he'd come down from the killer's high, he used the private plane to get to Africa, joined African pirates for a while to stay low, and then he hid on a cargo ship on its way to south America. He then made his way to north America to where he is now. He's been tracking Ichigo and trying to find him and buy him. He randomly robs a passing business man and tries once again, half-heartedly to find his neko, but to his great surprise, Ichigo is the first thing he comes across but he doesn't quite have enough on the business man's card to buy him and he is brought right before his eyes on the screen. The good news is that he knows who has him and he's not too far away.

A/N: So, would anyone be interested in reading this one?


End file.
